Mental Defect

Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Secret War Journal[]

With each passing day, I feel a greater sense of overwhelming sorrow.
I probably could explain the cause, but I cannot express it in words.
My appetite has fallen, my joy running dry.
Colours turning grey, visions darkening.

What I grief, I grief for naught.
What I desire, I desire in vain.
What I gain, I gain nought.
What I see, I see nix.

Motivations runs dry, only to be filled again.

So much is missing.
SO much is obscured.
So much is lost.
One ponders on the meaning of his life.

Your existence is a sin.

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